One in a million
by Terfle
Summary: A series of vignettes, canon/headcanon. DI Robinson starts rethinking his view of Miss Fisher
1. Chapter 1

'Just go up the stairs to Miss Jane's room, second on the right' instructed Mr Butler.

Jack nodded and walked cautiously up the stairs. He felt like an awkward stranger in this grand house. He heard murmuring voices, walked past the open door and doubled back. Jane was tucked up in bed and safe from all who wished to harm her. She was affectionately attended by Miss Fisher, hand on her cheek while she reassured her that she was safe now and to get a good night's sleep. Jack peeked unobtrusively. This seemed peculiar behaviour from Miss Fisher but he was getting an idea that there was a lot more to her than frivolous flapper. If he was a betting man he would have bet that she was careless and cruel with the men in her life. She had insisted she _'didn't do children'_ and he was also willing to bet she wouldn't get herself emotionally involved but here she was; swooping in to save the day, being desperately imprinted on by a vulnerable child and effortlessly taking it in her stride.

He took a moment to steal a glance at the fairy godmother. He'd overheard her tell the girl that she had had a sister with the same name. He'd also been informed that she had been born poor and starving in Collingwood, a district he would have steered clear from. He couldn't imagine her being the ragged little street urchin with her refined manner and immense wealth but there was a glint in her eye he didn't normally see in women of her class. Mind you, he'd rarely met anyone of her class but it was clear that she was one in a million. She seemed gentler, less intimidating now.

He detected warm concern on her lovely face and crept away, leaving them in peace. He'd call round another day.


	2. Chapter 2

' _I am a servant of the law, not its master.'_

That's what he told her and he meant it. It didn't mean he was oblivious or uncaring to the fate of doomed homosexuals like Charles and Bobby. But it wasn't his business and he couldn't change the law, no matter how established the accused were in society. Now society opinion was a different matter. A lot people in society accepted these men for who they were, Jack being one of them. He didn't have to know Miss Fisher for very long to know that she would naturally champion the underdog. The men in question didn't deserve to be punished, he agreed but he couldn't tell her that. He could hint around it, she was sharp enough to take a hint. The question for him was, could he turn a blind eye to it in the investigation? Normally he would say no but...

He took another forkful of Mr Butler's wondrous gratin. It was a shame she hadn't taken anything seriously since 1918. She had the makings of a brilliant police officer. Unorthodox, undisciplined but highly instinctual, not to mention devastating in the right doses. She just needed to tone it down somewhat. She was a loose cannon, no wonder she had to strike out on her own, no police force would have her.

He grinned ruefully at the finished dish, hoping for more. Moments like these didn't come around often and he could still feel the tingle down his spine when he daringly leaned forward and accepted a bite from her fork. Like a hopeful spaniel. He didn't like the idea of being anyone's hopeful spaniel, but the woman could really grow on a belaboured member of the police force.


	3. Chapter 3

She wasn't surprised when he moved a little closer these days, almost tickling her ear with his breath at times. His tentativeness in approaching her was waning and little by little he inched closer. No doubt this was child's play to her as she manhandled his tie and pouted but for him, it was a dangerous game out on a ledge without a safety net. She herself lived on the wire, too close for comfort at times. But she was like a bolt of sunshine and lightening, fearlessly barging into the territory of his staid life and interrupting the plod of the rhythm he had become attuned to. She seemed to have a knack for knowing when he was hungry, when his bark was worse than his bite and wearing expensive French perfume in all the spots that tickled his nose when he stood too close.

He flicked back on the memory of those series of snapshots Hugh had taken, photographs which had made him look twice. She was striking, no doubt. He was going to keep those images seared into his brain long into old age because lord knew he needed something to keep him sane through the drearier aspects of his life. His heart leapt for a treacherous second and had to make himself focus on the pile of paperwork in front of him. But banishing Miss Fisher from his memory was a feat harder than most as he struggled to admit that she was taking over his thoughts, impetuous as a freight train and much more charming.


	4. Chapter 4

He said he hoped she wasn't concealing a dangerous weapon under that skirt. A part of him meant it, for lord help the police force if she did. A part of him hoped very much that she was deadly armed because in this day and age, a woman needed a lot more than a hat pin to defend herself with. He didn't dare let his eyes linger, it wasn't as if he hadn't seen them before but he needed to focus. He wasn't surprised of course that she did have a weapon on her, presumably at all times. He mused that her shapely legs were a weapon on their own, the mere sight of them would have caused a riot in a fraternity.

She cheekily told him she was concealing a lot of things, a statement made more apparent as he got to know her better. If that's what ladies did, as she claimed, then ladies made much better spies than men ever gave them credit for.


	5. Chapter 5

He didn't need to know what she had been doing with that Portuguese sailor, he could tell already it wasn't a story that he was going to like. Be interested in perhaps but not like. For he was a tiny bit interested in what people did with a knot or two in an amicable setting. There was a time where he could impassively listen to her exploits, but those days were gone. He suspected that business with the medium had alerted to her to the rhythm of his heart and that for her, was worth currency above even knowing his preference of sandwiches.

Tracing her hand over his life lines, she looked at him and caught his breath. Never had a woman looked at him so intently and he had to work very hard to make sure she hadn't noticed. But she had. Infuriating female. She had a talent for doing things she wasn't supposed to be doing. Like creeping around the theatre with a piece of wood, ready to whack an intruder. It was lucky he'd stopped her. Although he suspected he was the lucky one. The force of his aggravated breath blew back those jet black strands of her coiffure and it was the first time he had the chance to notice that her eyes were made of liquid jade.


	6. Chapter 6

Not even when that medium insinuated what she had, he'd never paid attention to it as much as he had now. He thought it was her under that death sheet. The indomitable Phryne Fisher, felled by one of her loved possessions, a motor car. All he could see in his minds eyes right now was the first time in his life he'd not paid attention to a football game. When he'd draped that striped scarf over her and looked into those eyes. The rush of breath between them, that look of affection she had given him, took his attention away from everything. Not even the presence of his ex-wife could ruin that.

He nearly wept staring at that bottle of liquid gold, one that was meant for sharing. But there was a lock in his chest, at times nearly exploding with the feelings he sought to supress but never busting open. This might have just done it. He couldn't share it with her. Not when she'd ripped his heart out with no hope of patching it up and putting back. He knew now that things wouldn't have been the same. Nothing was ever the same, not since he'd met her, meddling at a crime scene that wasn't hers. He recalled the intense irritation he had for her those first few meetings. Like a bee he just couldn't swat. She polarised people to such an extent that it was impossible to be indifferent to her. Every so often she revealed a glimpse of something unexpected, hidden beneath her skin, that rattled him. The ease at which she shed her clothes; for a public fan dance no less, the unquestioning protectiveness towards Jane, even her kindness towards her backwards cousin Arthur. None of it made any sense and yet all of it did.

He could have sworn that kiss he had snatched from her that day in the café had slammed into her heart and made her sweat. There was even a unPhryne-like shiver from her. Close to being flustered even. But she kept skirting around this muddle in a way that seemed out of character for her. Did she really feel the same way or was it all just another game? He didn't even know how to clear his head rationally anymore. For how he felt wasn't rational.


	7. Chapter 7

He smirked as he thought about the accidental way he had found out one of her biggest and most apparent fears. Arachnids. He had to admit, an unfamiliar smug feeling had crept over him when he had finally realised that she wasn't very happy about other women getting quite so close to him. But that was nothing compared to when he realised how he could just hold up a spider in a jar to make her flee across his desk which he'd been imploring her to do for some time now. Sometimes a man just had to use his trump card.

He didn't enjoy frightening her but sometimes a tiny bit of spider went a long way to coaxing her to alter her choice of seating. She could be more inconvenient than a cat and it certainly paid her back for all of the times she'd flaunted those walking cravats in his path. He gleefully allowed himself to dwell on it a second or two longer and then he shut it in a drawer, along with the spider.

That was as uncharitable as he could get. He absolutely wasn't intending to threaten her with a spider every time he wanted his own way but…those eight-legged beasts had their uses.


	8. Chapter 8

He had been told that he should wish upon a star and his dream would come true. Not since he was a boy had he needed to use that. Adults didn't need dreams, adults needed goals. But taking a moment to step away, he looked at his own personal star. She was looking up at the sky in delight with everyone else but for him, there was nobody else.

If he'd ever had a wish; a real one, she was it.


End file.
